


You Fucker

by Ashkenna



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), All Time Low
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashkenna/pseuds/Ashkenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holy shit.</p>
<p>When did he find out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Fucker

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for my friend Emily who writes on Quotev. You can find her searching Marie and Emily.

Being a fan of All Time Low wasn't new. Not for Michael, he's been a fan, since well, ever. 

Getting famous wasn't the plan. Not for him, he just wanted to be in a band and do something that he enjoyed. 

Meeting Alex Gaskarth? That was definitely the plan. And maybe the rest of the band. 

But, getting famous was his key to the plan. To unlocking it and, hey look at that all he ever wanted came true.

Going on tour with All Time Low? That wasn't the plan.

Becoming friends with All Time Low, that was the wistful thinking part of the plan.

Michael assumes that things that weren't apart of the plan had to happen so the plan itself could happen. Which, he has no complaints for.

After meeting All Time Low, exchanging numbers and texting, being friends was pretty much a package deal.

Falling in love? Totally unplanned, never even thought of. More of a- HOLY SHIT THERE'S A FALL IN LOVE WITH ALEX GASKARTH PART TO THIS PACKAGE DEAL. 

Okay, falling in love seemed cliche. Maybe it was cliche. It was cliche. Saying it is very cliche.

How is someone supposed to word Falling In Love with out it sounding over used?

"Hello, my name is Michael, but you already know that, and I maybe want to smack your face with my mouth and stay like that for awhile. You know, if you don't mind that is. Which you should not mind because I might do it anyway."

Nope. No thanks. 

He's thought of this a dozen times and more, and just not saying anything sounds best. Better safe than sorry, right? 

Actually, he doesn't understand if that fits in with the situation. 

So, instead, better friends than risk feelings? Yeah. That works. 

He'll just continue making stupid faces and wearing band t-shirts and pining from a very, very, very far distance. And that distance will be very safe. Safe like keeping from harm, not safe as in not wanting to have a baby. (No really bad, terribly told, safe sex jokes? Okay.)

And, that distance has recently kept him from seeing Alex. He wasn't avoiding him really. He was just, too busy constructing that safe distance line. And uh, putting up the fence. And the barb-wire on top just to be careful. Did he mention the fence was electric? No? Well it is.

And maybe Alex noticed. Michael thinks he did at least. And he's probably not saying anything cause, you knows he's such a good guy. And his hair is sort of perfect. And his stubble. And his eyes and beanies and hands and nose and- he should probably stop now. He sounds kind of stupid.

Currently, it was seven AM, and nobody should have to be up this early. Ever. And it's not like Michael had too be up, his job- No. Jobs are boring and everyone hates them- His music life is on a break, out for some tea and biscuits. 

But, back to the point, his thoughts had been keeping him up lately. He'd stay up all night contemplating the messaging app on his shitty personal phone. Okay, it looked nice, but it really was shitty.

He'd turn it on just to open Alex's contact, type in a message, and then delete it, exit out of the app, and turn off his screen. He couldn't say anything. He felt it would make the whole thing worse.

It's like straight out saying, "Hey, I know you've messaged me a thousand times and I've ignored you on all of them but I thought this would be a good time to message you back. I obviously can't come get lunch, or hang out on Thursday, or go to that one party, or call you, or.... But I just wanted to know how you were."

Maybe Michael was just too afraid to face Alex, because he's been a huge douche or because of his sudden feelings, he wasn't sure. Although, it was probably both. 

He knew that Alex was his friend. But he assumed that to Alex, he was probably just another person to talk to. Michael isn't putting himself down when he thinks so, because he gets it. Someone as popular as Alex must have enough friends already. He's thankful Alex even tries to spend time with him, or talk to him every few days.

But seeing as he was up already, he might as well do something productive. Which turned out to be playing video games while hanging upside down on his couch.

He was bored. He couldn't do anything couldn't thinking of anything. It's like he had this itching need to do something, anything, but this, but sit around all day. He supposed he wouldn't actually do anything. 

Except trudge to his freezer to grab a popsicle and hang around outside on his porch.

Maybe order pizza.

Probably order pizza. 

Definitely order pizza. Probably the only thing he would really eat today anyway.

Today would be another day of ignoring Alex Gaskarth' s texts and desperately trying to find something else to occupy his mind. Which, probably won't work out.

Maybe he says probably too much. Who cares? Probably. Probably probably probably.

Probablyprobablyprobablyprobablyprobablyprobably. 

Maybe he's just out of his mind now. From being so lost. On the subject of Alex that is. 

He should probably stop thinking now.

And so he did. 

And lied down on the grass, no matter how itchy it'd be in just a few minutes, and just emptied all the thoughts out of his head. Like relieving a pitcher of its water.

He felt the warm breeze against his skin, and listened to the sound of buzzing insects. He was so caught up in forgetting that he didn't realize the crunch of gravel was a car pulling up in his driveway. Didn't notice the not so quiet slam of the door.

Because his senses were becoming the water that was being detached from the pitcher. 

No he didn't notice until the crunch of grass beside his head startled him. And when he opened his eyes he was staring at the face of Alex Gaskarth, just the man he was meant to be forgetting about. 

He was as attractive as ever, the stubble the same as when be remembered it and the beanie he was wearing today was red. Only his face down to his shoulder were in Michael's view, the rest of his body behind his head. He bent over, a foot on each side of his head. He wore a shit eating grin on his face and the only thing that Michael was feeling was dread.

"So, Clifford, you've been avoiding me." Okay. So he probably noticed. Most likely. And he's probably not as nice of a guy as Michael originally thought. "Lets take this inside." 

It wasn't a question. Only a demand. Michael swallowed, not only because it was slightly terrifying, but because the demanding tone maybe sort of suited Alex. Very nicely. 

Michael stood up when Alex removed himself from looming over Michael's head. His arms were itching but instead of scratching, he stuffed his hands in his pockets in hopes of Alex not noticing the way they suddenly became clammy.

When he followed Alex into his house, he felt kind of this pathetic. He's kind of obeying into going inside. And that inside is his own house. He should be able to say when he's going inside or outside, but he couldn't speak. 

Alex was actually pretty intimidating. 

Michael closed the door behind him and Alex sat casually on his couch. His arms raised up only to be folded behind his head and he just stared.

It was unnerving for Michael, who had no idea what to say, or what Alex might say in place of him. His warm eyes were staring holes into Michael that raised goosebumps on his skin.

"So. Why haven't you answered my texts." That was not a question. It couldn't possibly be a question, not with the smirk on his face.

Michael stuttered his way through a not-so-well made lie. "My, uh, phone broke. Dropped it in water." It was so obvious Michael was lieing, with the curt reply and all.

Alex grinned, wide, and it was like a predator teasing its prey. "You got a new phone then. But you didn't bother to get my number from your friends?" If possible, Alex's grin probably would have widened. "Do you not like me anymore, Michael?" His voice wasn't a whining tone, more of a deep and sad cry.

"I didn't get a new phone." Came the easy reply. (After all, it was true). He wasn't even going to touch up on the part where Alex accused him of disliking him. Hah. 

Alex's hands unfolded from behind his head and he stood up. He walked slowly, all the way to Michael.

Alex stepped up right into Michael's space, his head turned so his nose brushed Michael's cheek. His hand rested on Michael's side, and slipped down to us hip, and then not his left back pocket where his phone was.

"Then what's this Mchael?" His breath curled and twisted on Michael's cheek, making his own breath fall short. Alex's hand practically grabbed Michael's ass when he pulled his phone out. Michael could practically feel Alex's grin when he said, "because I'm positive it isn't a spare set of keys or a wallet."

Holy shit.

When did he find out?

More importantly, who told him?

Before Michael could say word, it seemed Alex beat him to smacking his face with his mouth.

Michael didn't really mind.

His hands reached up, grabbing Alex's shirt, bunching it up in his fist, as the American lead him in a hot desperate-

Michael woke up with a start, feeling the effects of dreaming about Alex. It was kind of pathetic it didn't take much.

"Fuck you Alex." He said, without thinking about it. This has happened multiple times by now. He really should visit his lover soon.

-+-+-+-

Alex sneezed into his elbow and thought, someone must be talking about me, before his phone buzzed.

He opened a text from Michael only to grin widely.

-+-+-+-

To: Alex From: Michael   
10:56 AM  
Quit giving me morning wood, you fucker.


End file.
